


Anarchy

by NadiaHart, Neonbat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel, Alphas fighting for claiming dominance, Animalistic Abo, Cage Fights, Claiming Bites, Descriptions of no holds bar fighting, Dubconish vibes outside of Dean and Castiel, Dystopian Vibes, Fight dome, Gritty rough sex, I really do mean public with an audience fucking, Knotting, M/M, Omega Dean, Omegas fighting Alphas, Power Bottom Dean, Public Fucking - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 13:40:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19296883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadiaHart/pseuds/NadiaHart, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neonbat/pseuds/Neonbat
Summary: Dean is a champion. He's so close to winning his freedom in the ring he can taste it. He's two fights away from being granted his Boon when he's scheduled to fight an Alpha nicknamed Angel, and his dreams of freedom are shaken.





	Anarchy

**Author's Note:**

> I super loved writing this. This was the first time I experimented with Present tense but I think it really fit the setting.
> 
> Let's hear it for the wonderful [NadiaHart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadiaHart) because that art is banging and gave me the inspiration for this story <3
> 
> The art for the story is here: [ Anarchy Art< /a>](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19292536)

 

A thunderous roar ripples through the arena above, the basal mewls and snarls of triumph swallowed by the crowd. The Omega above lost, not all that surprising. Dean never thought Mitch stood a chance, frankly. Strong Omega, but the Need shone too bright in his eyes. Mitch lasted six months before breaking, a commendable length of time.    
  
But it didn’t touch him.    
  
Dean wraps his hands, rolling his left shoulder, then right. His bout was next, his first since his last heat. The Need slept in him like a beast, ready to lash out and consume. He was going on two years down here in the Pits, the longest Omega to ever go without pairing. It was supposed to be an honor to be able to battle for your mate, to have the strongest, most capable be the father of your brood, but it doesn’t feel like one. To Dean, it just feels like another method of control. 

“Who is it?” He asks over his shoulder where his floppy-haired brother stares dozy-eyed over one of the vid-screens. 

Sam starts, peering closer. ”Castiel. Some transplant from Detroit — Damn, guy has fifteen wins and has never paired off.” Sam whistles low, reaching up to scratch a healing scab on his collarbone. Sam had been paired off a year ago, though not in the Pits and not to an Omega either. For an Alpha as strong-blooded as Sam, that was almost unheard of, but leave it to his baby brother to fly in the face of convention. 

“Fifteen and not paired?” Dean snorts, “Something wrong with his knot?” He ignores Sam’s low grunt of revulsion while he finishes getting ready.   
  
His body reads like a roadmap of his two years in the Pits. Healed cuts, gashes, and bites riddling his fit body, but lacking the one that really matters. His neck was pristine, a silent ‘fuck you’ to every Alpha that had tried and failed to claim him.

It hadn’t always been this way. In school, Dean recalls that in the old times before the Calamity, society operated pretty blandly. Alphas, Omegas, and Betas paired with whomever they pleased, and the emphasis on Omegas had been minimal. Now, there were two distinct veins of his designation. The Birthers, and the ones that refuse to accept the role the Assembly decrees. Part of him figures he should be grateful; in the first decades after the Calamity, Omegas had no choice but to all be Birthers and none were granted the right to fight for their freedom of choice.

He was close.  _ So damn close _ . Two more fights and he was free. The Boon would be granted and he would ask to be made unfruitful.   
  
“Ready?” Sam prompts behind him, drawing him from his thoughts.   
  
“You kidding? I was born ready,” Dean chortled, tying off his gym shorts.”My winning streak against Detroit’s. Sounds interesting. What’s the guy’s tag?”

Sam makes another hum, eyes twitching as he scrolls further down on the glitchy screen hovering a foot away from his face. “Tag is ‘Angel,’ weird fucking tag if you ask me.”   
  
“Can’t be any worse than mine.” He spares a glance in the mirror, looking his battle-tested body over with a faint note of appreciation. He’d earned these scars by being the best.   
  
“Yeah yeah, go get ‘im,  _ Hunter _ .” Sam gets up, slapping one of his massive mitts against his shoulder and probably leaving a reddened handprint against his freckled skin. 

“Bitch,” Dean grouses, peering at the handprint critically.   
  
“Deal with it, Jerk.” Sam titters all the way to the hall to catch his seat by the ring, a prime spot for being Dean’s ‘Handler.’ No Omega could go around without an Alpha unless they were Booned, and there were few methods to earn one from the Assembly. This was his only option. 

 

* * *

 

 

Inside the Pit, Dean stretches his arms above his head, ignoring the clamoring whistles. He knows what he looks like. He’s in fighting form, even for a Pit Omega. Anyone walking on the street might mistake him for an Alpha if he wore Blockers, but those had been outlawed ten years ago and they were more expensive than street drugs now. His body is a tall stretch of muscle and just the right amount of padding gifted to him by his Omega blood. He is a powerhouse, someone that can move fast and hit hard, and here in the Pit, you need both.    
  
The cries of the crowd swell as his challenger steps into the ring, and for a moment Dean is sure it must be the guy’s ring-side tech coming in to check things. The figure sheds the long, loose tan robe around his shoulders and tosses it back out the chain-link door before it closes. 

This Castiel guy is...underwhelming. He’s a fit guy, sure, Dean can admit he’s got a body that won’t quit. He’s even good looking, in a dozy, I-rolled-out-of-bed-for-this way. Castiel had a strong stubbled jaw and eyes bright enough Dean can see them from across the ring, but Castiel doesn’t carry himself like an Alpha. If anything, the guy has Beta written all over him.

Above them, a drone buzzes around the arena, reacting to their stretching and subtle movements. “Greetings, all you lovely people,” The smarmy voice of Pitmaster Crowley booms over the drone’s com systems.”We’ve got a special treat for you today. A new one in from out of town, welcome Angel, coming off a fifteen-match winning streak. A picky one we have here!” The crowd roars and laughs, and Castiel’s face visibly darkens.    
  
Dean swallows.   
  
“And of course, let’s not forget the rose of the Pits himself, our lovely little Hunter, undefeated, unwhelped! Let’s see if Angel can claim this bitch once and for all!” The crowd is in a frenzy at this point, and Dean’s stomach churns. Animals. All they want to do is see this wimp of an Alpha pin him to the ground and knot him for all he’s worth. 

Time slows as the massive sheet-screen unfurls behind the crowds, blazing neon letters blooming over the optics. Ten...nine….Dean takes a deep breath and settles into an easy stance, and his opponent does the same. Five….four… Dean runs his teeth along his petite fangs, the familiar tingle in his gums unwelcome from the crushing scent of all the Alphas in the audience.    
  
One.   
  
The first ten seconds are a blur. Castiel is fast, far faster than Dean ever expected. Dean dodges and weaves, feet carrying him back and forth as they trade ineffective blows, neither landing a solid hit. He gets the first hit when he kicks out, catching Castiel against the jaw in an impressive high-kick the Alpha hadn’t planned for.

Castiel retaliates with a blow hard enough to stagger him, and Dean hisses, nostrils flaring. A moment later he’s hit by a cocktail of smells that have no right going together, but somehow work. Coffee and iron gall. Fresh rain and an electric tang. All of it melded with the sweat of a Pureblood Alpha, and Dean takes another hit when he spends too long trying to recover from it.    
  
The fuck is a Pureblood doing down here in the Pits? People born of pure Alpha and Omega lines since kingdom come had pedigrees, or at least the cream of the crop did. People like Castiel sit up there in the High-rise looking down at people like Dean, mongrels in their eyes.    
  
From the sidelines, Sam snarls against the chain link, dangerously close to touching the electrified cage.”Get it together!”    
  
Dean zeros back in on the fight and his next punch catches Castiel in the chest. He hears a satisfying wheeze as Castiel staggers back, fierce blue eyes staring at him with a mixture of disbelief and satisfaction.

“Like that, Pureblood?” Dean spits, daring Castiel to come at him again.   
  
The man’s eyes flicker, the hint of amusement dying.”Don’t call me that.” Shit, his voice is a basal rumble that hits all the right notes and sends a ripple down Dean’s spine.   
  
Smirking, Dean executes some fancy footwork to keep him out of Castiel’s reach as the Alpha takes his attack on the move.”Curious what one of your kind is doing down here. Looking for a thrill?” Dean shouldn’t be running his mouth, he knows this, but he can’t help himself. It’s every day he could taunt a Pureblood and not have the police on his ass. In the Pits, everything is game once the gates close. 

A deep, teeth-rattling growl pulls from Castiel’s throat, and Dean misses a step. Castiel leaps and they go down in a heap, scratching, grappling, and kicking for the upper hand.    
  
“You...run your mouth a lot...” Castiel rumbles as he momentarily strong-arms Dean into an armlock. 

Dean rewards him with a blow to the kidneys that tumbles Castiel off of him with a yelp.”You have no fucking idea.” They’re rolling through the dirt soiled with blood and a myriad of other bodily fluids from the last match seconds after. 

He can’t get purchase on Castiel’s comparatively smaller body. Dean is sure he has more weight on the guy, but Castiel is startlingly strong. All the while, the crowd jeers and shouts for more, more, more.    
  
Castiel wrestles him down against the dirt, shoving his head against the unforgiving ground hard enough to bloom fuzz in his eyes.    
  
For the first time in a long while, Dean feels like this could be the end. To his left, he can still hear Sam yelling, fear no doubt blazing in his Alpha-red eyes, frothing all the way to his canines. If there was anyone more scared of him losing than himself, it was Sam. His baby brother didn’t want to see his only sibling forced into a life he doesn’t want to live.    
  
Above him, Castiel heaves a hard breath and slowly sinks down. Dean snaps at him, baring his teeth, but Castiel only forces him down once more.    
  
“Is this the end, folks? Looks like our Hunter might be in for trouble! Who else is curious to see how this bitch screams?” Crowley is whipping up the crowd, boisterous laughter macabre against the growing panic in his chest.    
  
Castiel slots his lips against his ear, holding his arms behind his back hard enough his shoulders are creaking.”Will you submit to me?” he asks in a hushed tone, no trace of the prior growl.    
  
“I’ll never fucking submit to you, piece of Highborn trash!” Dean roars back and pushes himself up as hard as his body can manage with the full weight of the Alpha on top of him. To his surprise, Castiel wobbles and falls back with a grunt.   
  
Dean pivots on the ground, kicking out to slam the heel of his foot against Castiel’s jaw, snapping his head back. Dean is on him after that, battering him with punches until he’s reeling long enough to force him into a punishing headlock with his thighs.    
  
“What’s this? Another possible win for our chaste prince? Count down with me, ten….nine..!” Crowley continued above, but all Dean can hear is the sound of his blood flowing a punishing path through his veins.   
  
Castiel looks up at him, blood dribbling from a split lip and eyes bloodshot from the slow choke-out. If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d say the fucker looks satisfied.

“...one! Another victory for The Hunter!”

 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
“You sure you’re up for this, Dean?” Dean knows Sam isn’t meaning to be a fretting Alpha over a ‘lesser,’ but he’s had just about enough.   
  
Dean wheels around, fixing Sam with a hard glare.”I’m fine.” He pushes a small growl into his voice, easily done with how close he was to another heat. They were troublingly frequent of late. Not surprising, he’s at his peak and he’s surrounded by an Alpha’s stench every time he enters the Pit. His body screams at him to fulfill his biological purpose, and he’s afraid he won’t be able to ignore it much longer. He has to win the Boon, or else face the music.

He’s so close he can taste it. This is his last real match, the prior three being against betas that had no hope in hell to win, just simple exhibition matches. Sometimes Crowley likes to throw beta males in just to make everyone laugh, mocking yet another designation with cruel stereotypes. 

“Who am I against?” He asks, kicking his leg up against a bar drilled into the wall to stretch himself out. The little twinge that tightens his core he ignores, filing that away with the mountain of other problems he doesn’t want to deal with right now. Including why so many of his pre-Heat dreams were centered around that blue-eyed Pureblood he was pretty sure took a dive. His scent had been intoxicating, and even two weeks later Dean can recall it clearly.    
  
Sam’s fingers move over the projection, but the longer he works, the more the hot-pepper scent of frustration begins to roll off him.”What the fuck? Nothing will pull up.” Sam admits, “Whoever it is, Crowley isn’t releasing it to us.”    
  
“ _ Fuck _ !” Dean snarls, stepping down.”I knew that bastard was going to screw me!” One match. All he needed to be granted his Boon was one goddamn match and Crowley was pulling this shit now. It made sense; he was Crowley’s cash cow. The unbeatable Omega everyone came to see. Without him, Crowley would have to start from scratch with the other bitches skulking around these halls. Break in a whole new herd.   
  
“Calm down, Dean. Whoever it is, you can beat them.” Sam assured, getting up from the stool to place one of his broad hands over his shoulder.”You can do this.You’re so close now and then nothing can stop you.”   
  
A low, measured sigh escapes his lips, and Dean nods.”You just want me out of your hair so you can set up a den,” Dean smirks wolfishly, bursting into a full-chested laugh at the hot blush that tears its way over Sam’s cheeks. He can’t blame Sam for being eager, both of them are frustrated that unmarried Omegas couldn’t live ‘untethered’ without an Alpha. Since their father was dead, the nearest blood-related Alpha is Sam, and even though Dean is older, he still needs Sam’s sign off for damn near every major life decision he makes.    
  
But after this, he’ll be free. Free to live fully unmated and untethered like any ol’ Beta.

The walk to the Pit feels like a journey to hell. This will make or break him. Whatever happens, there are only two outcomes to come of this. Either he wins his freedom, or he becomes property.

The fans stomp rhythmically against the chipped cement steps of the amphitheater, vibrating the Pit’s dirt-scattered floor. He sees the cage still open on the Alpha’s side, but no sign of his competitor. He spares a brief back-glance at his brother, who is as perplexed as he is. Cautiously, he eases into the Cage, the sound of the locked gate closing behind him as much of a comfort as it is a source of anxiety. This was the last time he ever has to hear that sound in his life. One last fucking time. 

Above him, Crowley’s camera drone begins to whir, whipping the crowd into a further frenzy. ”My beautiful crowd! Today is history! A thing of legends!” Of course, Crowley has to make as big of a production out of this as he can.”This is the famous Hunter’s final match! And we have quite the show prepared for you tonight, ladies and gentlemen! A returning competitor!” Dean’s brows crease. He’d never faced the same Alpha twice. Most were too humiliated to ever dare show their face to him again. 

“Returning for another round, welcome Angel!” Ice settles in Dean’s veins as ‘Angel’ steps up from the holding to walk into the Cage, his piercing blue eyes training on him with every step. Where Castiel looked underwhelming before, he is every inch the Alpha someone of his stature should be now. 

His hair looks wilder than last time, eyes brighter. Dean would bet money Castiel is as close to his rut as Dean is his heat by the shine of his eyes alone. Dean can see Castiel’s long fangs gleam against the plump swell of his lower lip, and his insides clench uncomfortably. 

“Focus, Dean.” Sam rumbles behind him through the fence, no doubt scenting the note of interest that flares in his scent.

Dean grunts a nod and cracks his neck. Castiel is shifting his weight from side to side, fingers flexing, the tips of his Pureblood claws painted a fetching ivory.    
  
The sounds of the crowd fade away as the countdown begins. Crowley is still talking, and so is Sam, but all of that is far away. Right now, only he and Castiel exist. His enemy. His freedom.    
  
The buzzer sounds and Dean’s feet bite the ground.

Catching him isn’t as easy as it was the last time, and the first fight had been tough enough. Dean doesn’t go on the defense unless he has to, it just isn’t his style, but chasing after the Alpha who skitters on nimble feet has him reevaluating his attack plan.   
  
A lightning-fast jab to his jaw momentarily has his footwork faltering, and Dean hurries to distance himself from Castiel’s reach before he can make use of the opening. Tongue darting out, he tastes a small trickle of blood against his lip.   
  
“Angel has drawn first blood!” Crowley growls in triumph above and the drone goes zipping by, circling around them like a bloated carrion bird.

Castiel steps after for another attack, but Dean is ready. A quickstep to the left and a hard kick momentarily sends Castiel to his knees, but the Alpha is already rolling to the side before Dean can land another blow.   
  
“Back for more?” Dean smirks, taking a moment to get a breather and circling around the Alpha as he rights himself, part of his body now streaked in dirt.   
  
Castiel rolls his neck to the side with a satisfying pop,

”Did you doubt I would be?” Castiel replies, with a tone that could only be summed up as ‘knowing.’ It was as disconcerting as it was thrilling. What was this guy playing at?   
  
Dean takes three quick half-steps closer, fists darting out to pummel Castiel’s blocking arms. “You bombed last time, don’t try and hide it.” He hisses, quieter so the circling drone can’t overhear over the jeers and shouts of the crowd.   
  
He doesn’t backpedal in time to avoid Castiel shoving his arms out and spinning around to land a hard windmilled-kick to his side. His vision bursts into a cloud of momentary red, but he’s used to cracked ribs, and he dances away with barely a grimace.   
  
“I won’t claim someone that doesn’t accept my fangs,” the Alpha’s deep, gravely voice hits all the right notes up his spine, and Dean swallows. He can see ‘Angel’s’ sizable claiming fangs when he talks, and the conjured ghost of the pain and pleasure of them sinking into his neck pulls a low tone from Dean’s throat.    
  
“You feel it,” Castiel insists, chasing after him to surge into a hop-skipped punch that buffets Dean’s back even when blocked. “ _ Don’t you _ ? How hot your blood has been?” Castiel’s eyes are beginning to burn bright, but instead of the Alpha-red Dean came to expect, they were a searing cerulean. The color is stunning, unique, and frightening in its intensity.   
  
He snarls, baring his smaller fangs and lashing out. He catches Castiel in the left shoulder, upper chest, then his jaw in quick succession, and Castiel gasps. “I’ll never present for you, Pureblood, keep dreaming.” Despite himself, he can feel his own eyes flaring to answer.   
  
Another punch rings his bell and Dean reels back. They separate, chests heaving and eyes alight. 

“Dean.” The way Castiel says his name licks fire in his belly. ”I’ve watched your matches for years.” News to Dean, he didn’t think Highborns watched bloodsports. 

“Highborns need something to jerk off to in their spare time?” Dean spits a mouthful of blood into the dirt, ignoring a crude yell at him to get on his knees for his betters in the seats behind him. 

A rueful, dark sneer twists Castiel’s chapped, pink lips.”I’m an Exiled, not a Highborn.” The revelation stuns Dean long enough that he nearly misses Castiel’s next volley.

He’s never heard of anyone getting ousted from the Highborn ranks in recent history. It just wasn’t done. Purebloods are too coveted. To get booted from your gilded perch you had to do something even the Highborn’s flimsy sense of morality deemed unacceptable. The last time a person of note had been Exiled, the man had murdered his father and brother to take over their house, but that’s not what got Lucifer ousted. No, the problem had been that without his family’s inner strife, he was just too strong, too influential. The resulting upheaval to Exile him had cast the Highborns into years of assassinations, kidnappings, and a whole host of shit that trash like him wasn’t even allowed to talk about within earshot of an Enforcer. 

Dean is sent sprawling by a feigned dropkick disguised in a series of minor punches. The open-palmed strike that comes after the kick floors him, and for a terrifying moment, he loses the ability to breathe. 

Castiel’s body is over his own, leaning in close. The bastard is trying to grapple him into a leglock. ”And no, I didn’t murder anyone that didn’t deserve it.” The Alpha growls against him, “You’d be surprised how similar our worlds — “ Castiel doesn’t get to finish his spiel before Dean nimbly slips out of the hold and swings his leg up over Castiel’s hip.   
  
In less than a second, their positions are reversed, and Dean sits pretty on top of Castiel and aims a devastating punch that blooms blood across Castiel’s face. Whatever witty quips and comments held on tongue are lost in the ensuing fight for the upper hand. Like last time, they end up staying on the ground. 

Castiel’s growls vibrate along his legs, drowning out the crowd, Crowley’s frenzied narration, and even his brother’s cries for him to rally. He’s drowning, no longer sure if he’s fighting to win or fighting to make Castiel submit instead.    
  
And then it happens. One moment he’s clawing at the dirt, and the next he has Castiel’s arms pinned above his head, and Castiel’s thigh locked solid between his legs.    
  
He stares down into the too-bright pools burning up at him, sharing the panted breath that smells of blood and frothed saliva between them. Castiel’s face is streaked in crimson and dirt, no trace of the Highborn regality he’d come to expect from the media or glimpses of them in passing.  

He leans in, nosing against Castiel’s jaw, and to his surprise, the Alpha bares his neck slightly, allowing him to scent him deep. It’s a sensory flood, saturating his brain in a thick blanket that chokes out all else. He purrs, tongue peeking past his lips to lick at the blood trapped in Castiel’s stubble.   
  
“Do  _ you _ submit?” He doesn’t know what makes him say it, but now that he has, there’s nothing else that he would have rathered asked. 

Castiel’s eyes widen, and his chest hitches. For a moment, Dean is sure he would refuse, try and push him off and beat him into submission. 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Castiel answering rumble slots everything into place, and Dean rears back, shouting up into the cavernous bowl that makes up the Pit until nearly all other noise halts. His fangs gleam white in the too-hot lights of the Cage, small, but sharp. 

He lunges, and blood blooms over his tongue. He hears Castiel hiss and growl under him, but the Alpha keeps his neck bared. Castiel’s hands claw into his thighs and side, pawing at his clothing and tears into long furrows until they’re tattered and useless.   
  
If the crowd is booing or cheering, Dean doesn’t know. All that exists is the body underneath him and the magma in his veins.”Like that,  _ Alpha _ ?” He snarls into Castiel’s ear and grinds his pert, muscular ass into the hard swell of Castiel’s dick.   
  
Castiel is beyond words, eyes a molten red and snapping after Dean’s neck with a singular focus. Dean reaches out, holding Castiel there by the neck with a firm, but reserved pressure until the Alpha calms enough to stop baring his teeth like he wants to eat him.    
  
Satisfied, Dean shifts, leaning up enough to reach back and roughly tug the waistband of Castiel’s sweat-clinging pants down until his fat Alpha cock can spring free. He doesn’t have to wait but a second for Castiel to get the memo and completely shred the waistband of his own shorts from his hips.   
  
The first undulation of his hips over Castiel’s length sends a hot shiver up his spine, and he keens, tongue lolling past his bottom lip as a rush of slick leaves him. Castiel reaches to spread him, claws biting into the meat of his plump cheeks, but even that leaves him wet and wanting.    
  
The next catches Castiel’s cockhead on his rim, and the Alpha bucks, pressing himself against the slippery heat of Dean’s pucker. But Dean isn’t ready. With a hiss Dean’s grip tightens and Castiel halts, whole body quivering from the desire to breed the Omega that finally accepted his bond.    
  
Dean wiggles into place, canting his hips until — “ _ Oh fuck _ ,” it begins to sink in, splitting him impossibly wide, no matter how much his body tries to prepare itself. No toy could ever prepare himself for the heat of Castiel’s dick slotting into him, thickest at the middle with a sinful taper towards his base. He can only imagine what it would feel like once his knot swells when they already fit together like a lock and key.    
  
Castiel pops his hips, sinking the last few inches home, and Dean pitches his head back in another primal roar. He’s dully aware of the camera drone flying above head, buzzing around them like an over-eager bee. Let them watch. Let them see an Omega claim an Alpha. Let them rage.   
  
The pace is brutal. Dean keeps his knees pressed into the dirt, slamming his hips down over Castiel’s rigid dick with pelvis-bruising force, but Castiel gives as good as he gets, digging his feet into the ring to pump his hips up into Dean’s syrupy heat. Dean never releases his hold on Castiel’s neck, enjoying seeing the saliva gleam on his impatient fangs, knowing what he craved, what he  _ needed _ . It was Dean’s to grant, his wish, his will, and he isn’t going to let it go until he’s good and ready.   
  
The drone hovers right above his head, and somewhere in the distance, he can hear someone yell at the Alpha to stop letting an Omega make him his bitch. Dean laughed, reaching up with his free hand to pop the drone and the entire crowd the bird, aware that his blood-soaked lips and feral grin played over the vid-screen all around the crowd. 

 

Castiel’s cock is thickening steadily, and his world swims out of focus.”Sh-show me your fuckin’ knot — is worth it!” he challenges, hand dropping back down to Castiel to rake his claws down the Alpha’s chest.    
  
“Knew it was you,” Castiel panted, eyes blown to hell and back.”My Omega. Beautiful...deadly Omega.” He’d bitten his lip at some point, a rivulet of red leaking down the corner of his plump, pink lips. So beautiful for an Alpha.   
  
It was coming. Castiel’s dick caught on his fucked-out hole with every thrust, swelling fatter and fatter until the base was barely able to drag back and forth.    
  
Castiel yelled, and he screamed. In the same moment, Castiel’s bloomed knot sinks into him, Dean lets his hand go. Pain tears through his throat a millisecond later and Castiel is spilling in him, arms locking around him tight enough to rob the air from his lungs. It’s all it takes to have him coming between them in fat, desperate ropes.   
  
They bite and scratch through their twin peaks, unable to get close enough. He has no idea how long it takes, only that when the burning haze of red clears from his vision he’s staring into the brightest blue eyes he’s ever seen in his life.   
  
They shake, and Castiel leans forward to nuzzle against his marked-up neck,” Do you want to raise anarchy?” he purrs into his ear, whispers of a beginning. A challenge.   
  
Humming low and satisfied, Dean clenches his hole up around Castiel’s rooted knot. All around them outraged Alphas are beating against the cage, so enraged they barely feel the hard zaps from the charged metal.   
  
“Fuck yes,” He smiles, and pushes Castiel back down into the dirt, baring his teeth in challenge to the whole goddamn stadium.

**Author's Note:**

> For more information, requests, or updates, go to: [My Tumblr](http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/) and search #Neon-writes or #Neon Writes  
> [My Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/Neonbat666)  
> Discord: @Neonbat  
> Twitter: My Twitter
> 
> and visit Nadia at :
> 
> AO3: **AO3**[NadiaHart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadiaHart)  
> Tumblr: **Tumblr** [ @HartlessFiction](https://hartlessfiction.tumblr.com)  
> PillowFort: **PillowFort**[ @Hartless_](https://www.pillowfort.io/Hartless_)  
> 


End file.
